ENDGAME Epilogue
by Patcat
Summary: My take on what happened.


There will undoubtedly be many fanfics for this episode. This is mine.

Disclaimer: Standard. Although I'm starting to think Dick Wolf and company should be paying me for emotional duress.

He heard the tentative knock. "Please," he said in a strained, low voice. "Just a few more moments."

He heard the door open and close. "I know…I have to leave…but…please…" His voice choked in his throat when he caught a familiar scent. "Al…Eames?"

Her heart broke when she heard his voice respond to her knock, and then split apart when she opened the door and saw him. He was so alone, even for Bobby, who always seemed to be alone.

"I think." She was surprised at how calm and strong her voice sounded. "You could call me Alex right now."

He tilted his head towards her. "Why…are you here?" There was no anger in his voice, only a touch of surprise.

"To help my partner…and friend." She continued to be amazed at the strength in her voice. "And just to let you know…We couldn't reach you on your cell phone…A lot of people are worried about you…Ross said to tell you to take as much time as you need. He wasn't sure you got his message. And Lewis couldn't reach you…Or Deakins…" She stepped close enough to touch him, but didn't.

He turned his head towards her. "I…I'm so tired," he confessed. "I…I don't know what to do."

Alex rushed into the small breach in his walls. "You can come with me…I can take you home." She lightly touched his shoulder. "You don't look like you should be driving right now."

He slowly rose and shuffled silently after her. The nurses sadly said goodbye to him, and he acknowledged them with a nod and a promise to return tomorrow to deal with things.

"You…you don't have to…" Bobby said when they reached her car. Every word cost him.

"Maybe not," Alex answered quickly. "But I want to."

He sat heavily in the passenger seat and fumbled with the seat belt. Alex gently helped him fasten the buckle. "You…somebody will have to drive me back," Bobby said.

"Not a problem," Alex said.

She'd driven for over a half hour before he spoke again, and when he did, his voice startled her so much that she struggled for a moment to hold on to the steering wheel.

"Thank you," he whispered. "For coming…for defending me…for trying to protect me…for trusting me…"

She fought against the tears forming in her eyes. "How are you?"

"I…I…I don't know who I am," he confessed in a rush.

Alex glanced at him. He appeared shattered from within. "Do you want to know who I think you are?"

He stared out the window. "Yes."

Alex took a deep breath, checked the traffic, and pulled the car over to the side. She unbuckled her seat belt and turned to face Bobby. Unable to look at her, he stared at the dashboard.

"I see," she said deliberately. "An intelligent, brave, kind, good man who has faced terrible things with great grace and courage. A man who fights for everyone—even if they don't deserve it. A stubborn man who frustrates the hell out of me. A man who has a great joy of learning new things and who makes me laugh. I see my partner and my friend. I see…" She took another deep breath. "The same man I saw several weeks ago before all of this…Sadder, exhausted…but the same good man."

Bobby held his fist to his mouth.

Alex reached up and adjusted the rearview mirror so that Bobby could see his reflection.

"You've said over and over again," she said gently. "People…no matter what's been done to them…Where they've come from…How damaged they are…They have choices…You told Nicole…" Bobby flinched. "That the difference between the two of you…were the choices you made. The son of that serial killer…You told him he wasn't like his father…Joey Frost…It's the choices you make…You've done it in your own life…The odds you've overcome…You are a good man who does good work…The world is a better place because you're in it…And I admire you for it."

He stared at the dark eyes in the mirror. He saw nothing of Brady's cruelty, or his father's selfishness, or his brother's confusion, or his mother's illness. He saw Robert Goren—battered, frightened, exhausted—but still Robert Goren. He looked at his hands.

Alex readjusted the mirror, buckled her seatbelt, turned the key, and eased back on the highway. She drove for several miles before she chanced a look at Bobby. He huddled in the passenger seat, still staring at his hands. He shivered, and stared out the window.

"Where…where are we going?" Bobby asked as she turned off the freeway.

"Good," Alex said. "You're aware of your surroundings."

"Just barely," he admitted.

"We're going to my house," she said decisively. "You shouldn't be alone…not now…"

"But…but I am." He stared again at the dashboard. "I…I know you're here…But…my Mom…It's just the sort of thing…In the end, you're alone."

Alex had no answer for him.

When they reached her house, Bobby meekly followed her just as he had at Carmel Ridge. She took his jacket, led him to her couch, and sat him there. He sat hunched over, his elbows on his knees, his hands dangling.

"I'll be back soon," she promised.

"Please," she prayed as she fixed a sandwich and poured some milk into a glass. "Please let me help him."

He still sat on the couch when she returned, the only change that his head now rested in his hands.

"Here," she said, putting the sandwich and milk on the coffee table in front of Bobby.

He took a long drink of the milk and examined the sandwich. "PB and J," he remarked.

"Well, you always said you didn't trust my kitchen skills," Alex said. "But I did use the strawberry jam."

He took a small bite. "And," he said after swallowing it. "You put a lot of peanut butter on it…Thank you for remembering."

To her relief, Bobby finished the sandwich and milk. "Do you need anything else?" she asked, to try to keep him talking.

He shook his head, and Alex watched with increasing frustration and fear as he disappeared back into his head.

She knelt at his feet. "Listen to me." She placed her hands on his knees. "You are a good man…You save people…Help people." She gripped one of his hands and was grateful he didn't pull away. "You've told me…You've told a lot of people…We are what we believe and what we do…We are not our families…We are not our parents."

He looked at her, and Alex fought not to look away from the terrible fear and pain in his eyes.

"I…I'm not sure who my parents were," he whispered.

Alex held both of his hands. "Your Mom…she tried to protect you…I'm sure that's what she meant by not telling you…You have to believe that…"

His head hung down. "I wish…I hope…"

"C'mon…You need to try to get some rest…" She led him to her bedroom; he hesitated at the door. "It's all right," she said. "After all, how many times have you helped me with my nightmares since…"

"Not enough," he whispered. "Not for everything you do."

She pulled back the covers and sat him on the bed. "There's an extra toothbrush in the bathroom," she said.

He padded into the bathroom and stared at his face in the mirror. Again, he saw no signs of Brady in its features. All he could recognize were the large, dark, sad eyes—his mother's eyes.

"Well," Bobby thought. "If it's a choice between a serial killer and a sick woman—a brave, sick woman—I'll go with the brave woman."

He brushed his teeth, threw water on his face, and shuffled back to the bedroom. He was so exhausted that he couldn't offer any resistance when Alex guided him to the bed. She helped him shed his clothes down to his T-shirt and boxers—his arms were so heavy that he doubted he could have undressed himself without help—and pulled the covers over him.

"I'll be back in a sec," she said and brushed her hand against his cheek.

He wanted desperately to sleep, but too many thoughts buzzed through his head. He heard the sound of water; it stopped, and a few minutes later the bed dipped slightly as Ales sat on it. He rolled on his back, and she tenderly placed a hand on his chest.

"How are you?" Her voice was warm and kind.

"I…I'm numb, I guess…I don't really know…"

"Yea…I can understand that."

He looked into her eyes and thought, "That's right…She knows all about grief…You've had time at least…to get used to the idea…Your Mom didn't leave all at once…"

"Thank you, Alex," he whispered.

She lay next to him, and Bobby turned on his side to face her. "I should thank you, Bobby."

Bobby looked at her curiously.

"Before I met you," she said. "I had this big chip on my shoulder about being Johnny Eames' daughter…about being an Eames…about being Joe's widow."

Their hands found each other and their fingers laced together.

"You showed me that the past might have made me who I was…but…what I did and thought make me what I am." He saw her smile in the dim light. "Does that make any sense?"

"Oddly enough, it does." He took a long, ragged breath. "Whatever is good about me…you've had a lot to do with it, Alex."

She sat up, wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him so that his head rested just below her breasts. "You are a good man…no matter where or who you came from…you are a good man."

She held him long after he had cried himself to sleep.

END


End file.
